


Truly Alone

by guineamania



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sense Loss, Serious Injuries, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt Trapped on One Million Words Bingo</p><p>Ever since the accident Matt Murdock had never been truly alone. But without his hearing and trapped in a basement, he was alone and reliant on the heroism of others. He hated relying on others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truly Alone

Being stuck in a basement once was enough for Matt Murdock. Admittedly last time was a lot worse as he was bleeding heavily from many wounds, being hunted by the police and stuck with a dying sarcastic Russian. This time he only had the bleeding heavily section so it was better. But still it was not pleasant. A bomb had gone off and thrown him backwards down into the basement before the ceiling partially collapsed. He had managed to get a call through to the police/ambulance/fire department, all were required in this case, but they were no closer to getting him out. However the worst thing was the havoc an explosion so close to his head had done. His hearing was stunted; he couldn’t hear what was happening outside the four walls he was trapped in. He was alone, in the darkness. As his hearing was ringing, his sight was just red like the room was on fire all around him with a frightening intensity. For once in his life, Matt Murdock was truly alone. After the accident there were always things going on; even when he was in the orphanage he could hear conversations all around him like they were all in the room talking to him. He was never alone.

But now in this darkened room, his head was woozy and the red flames flickering were making him even more disoriented. So Matt just closed his eyes and was plunged into complete darkness with no smells or sounds to pass the time. This would have been a perfect time to rest if he wasn’t bleeding heavily from the head. He could feel the warm liquid slide slowly down through his matted hair behind the mask. Matt knew that he would have to take off the horned helmet at some point but his arms would not co-operate. One of them was probably broken by the way pain shot up his arm at every breath. Plus it did do a marvellous job of putting pressure on the wound, and excellent design feature. It had occurred to him that asking for help from the authorities would mean that his identity would probably be revealed. But that would be better than being dead. A plume of dust fell from the ceiling and plumed around his stationary form. The particles worked their way down his already abused throat and coughs racked his whole body. Pain roared from every muscle in his body and when Matt’s eyes shot open, black was encroaching on the sides of the fire. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. The blood was spreading and Matt could fell it around his fingers on the floor. It was a surprise he was still conscious. Maybe going to sleep wasn’t such a bad idea. He could faintly hear voices around him but his eyes were struggling to stay open. Each blink was taking longer and longer. Until they stopped.

When Matt woke up, he could see again. His hearing was running wild and all senses were bombarding his damaged mind at once. He needed to focus. What would Stick say? He would berate Matt for the weakness and kick him to the floor. He would fight until Matt got in control of himself and could compete. He needed to focus. But to focus would bring back other pain. But the other pain was good. If he was hurting then he was alive. “Come on Matty, come back to us okay. Come on Murdock,” a familiar voice pierced through the chaos. He knew that voice; he trusted that voice. It gave him something to latch onto and banish all the other distractions. “I think he’s coming back,” the voice, Foggy his mind helpfully provided, continued and Matt inched his eyes open. His sight had returned, he could see two figures leaning over him; slowly everything came to him. He was in a hospital; the smell of disinfectant they had tried so hard to hide, the beeping of a heart monitor drilling into his throbbing head.   
“No, hospital,” Matt managed to choke out between coughs as he struggled to regain control of his motor functions.   
“Don’t worry Matt, your identity is safe. There’s only one doctor here, Claire trusts her,” Foggy blurted out hurriedly before Matt regained enough energy to pull out all the wires connected to him and fight his way out.   
“Hello, Mr Murdock. I’m Dr Cho. You can trust me, I will not reveal your identity. I understand your wish to keep your lives separate,” a new voice added, Matt tuned into her heartbeat as an automatic reflex. She was telling the truth.   
“How, press?” Matt hissed, his brain and mouth were still rebooting but Foggy seemed to get the idea.  
“Well as you rang me not the emergency services. I rang them saying that the mobsters had taken my friend hostage and the building had just exploded. When they managed to get you out your suit was in tatters. The police kept everyone away. The only people that saw you were Dr Cho, me and Claire,” Foggy explained and a small smile twitched at Matt’s lips. Somehow Foggy understood why he wanted Daredevil and Matt to be separate. And somehow his best friend had managed it. “Karen is out there now crying for the cameras and raving about how the mob had taken a poor blind lawyer, a pillar of the community, hostage,” Foggy laughed and Matt tried to. But coughs replaced the sound.   
“Now you should sleep Mr Murdock, your injuries were quite serious,” Dr Cho commanded but Matt’s tried body beat her too it. He was safe and so was his secret.


End file.
